


Sweet Silent Thought

by brynnmck



Category: Slings & Arrows
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-03-21
Updated: 2007-03-21
Packaged: 2017-12-14 18:14:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/839855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brynnmck/pseuds/brynnmck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>It was well past midnight, and Geoffrey's head was spinning with how in the hell he was going to get Banquo's ghost to appear suddenly onstage without resorting to a trap door or a fucking trapeze, when he marched out into the darkened front office and saw a witch-light hovering above the desk, illuminating a pale face.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweet Silent Thought

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sdwolfpup](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sdwolfpup/gifts).



> The second ficlet in my little impromptu [Five Birthdays](http://brynnmck.livejournal.com/97655.html) project.

It was well past midnight, and Geoffrey's head was spinning with how in the hell he was going to get Banquo's ghost to appear suddenly onstage without resorting to a trap door or a fucking trapeze, when he marched out into the darkened front office and saw a witch-light hovering above the desk, illuminating a pale face.

"Jesus—" he gasped, clutching at his chest, and then the panic spilled into recognition and he started heaving relieved breaths. Oh, thank _Christ_ —one ghost in their theatre was more than enough, thank you _very_ much. "Anna. You scared the shit out of me."

She smiled at him, contrite. "Sorry, Geoffrey. You've been working so late, I didn't think you'd venture out for hours yet."

"No, that's fine, I don’t get enough exercise anyway, a good tidal wave of adrenaline is always helpful for the creative process..." Now that the initial heart attack was fading, he looked at her more closely; she had a small white cupcake on the desk in front of her, one of those cheap birthday candles stuck in the center and slowly dripping wax down onto the frosting. The light from the candle glinted off wetness on her cheeks.

Hmm.

"Anna," he said gently, taking a few steps closer, "what are you doing?"

"It's just… well." She cleared her throat nervously. "It's Oliver's birthday. Or it would have been, if he hadn't…" She waved a hand. "You know."

"Oh." Something clicked in the back of his mind, a vague memory of a very good bottle of scotch and an elaborate meal and Oliver and Ellen, always him and Oliver and Ellen. "Huh. It is, isn't it."

Anna looked down, her fingers twisting in her lap, clearly embarrassed. "I know, I know, cupcakes for a dead man, it's crazy, I just—"

"Anna." Geoffrey raised an eyebrow at her. "Do you really think _I'm_ in a position to be passing judgment on anyone's mental stability?"

"Oh." She looked back up at him then, that patented Anna _buck-up-little-camper_ look that would have disgusted him on anyone else, but Anna meant it, every wrinkle in her nose. "No. You're just… artistic!"

He snorted affectionately. "And _you_ are a good friend. Better than Oliver deserves." He smiled and shook his head a little. "Maybe better than any of us deserve." That embarrassed her again, and he moved closer still, enough so he could rest his arms on the raised front shelf of the desk. "You really miss him, don't you?"

"Of course," she replied, looking down at the cupcake, another tear sliding down her face. "Don't you?"

 _Not nearly as much as I'd like to_ , was the first response that popped into his head, but Anna's eyes had been too bright, too open for that, so, after glancing around as surreptitiously as possible to ensure that there were no ghostly ears to hear him, he dropped his chin to his forearms and murmured, "Yeah. Yeah, of course I do."

And occasionally, it seemed, shutting the fuck up was indeed the better part of valor, because he was well-rewarded when Anna met his eyes and gave him a watery smile. "Do you want some cupcake?" she offered after a few seconds.

Geoffrey smiled. "Sure."

Anna nodded and sniffled, closed her eyes briefly, then blew out the candle. She broke the cupcake in half and handed a chunk to him on a Kleenex.

"Mmm," he said, chewing; it tasted like drywall. Drywall slightly dusted with candle wax. "Delicious."

She giggled. "One of the interns brought them in," she explained, muffled through crumbs. "We're lucky there's not pot in them."

He shrugged and swallowed his mouthful with some effort. "Or unlucky, depending on how you look at it." Anna laughed, tears still visible in the glow of the emergency lights. Geoffrey jerked a shoulder toward the door. "C'mon, let's go get a drink."

"Oh," she said, shaking her head, "I should get home, I—"

"Anna." He walked around the desk, grabbed her coat from the coat rack. "Haven't you ever heard not to argue with the infirm or the insane?"

"Geoffrey." But she stood up and let him help her into her coat. "You're not infirm."

"Not yet," he replied cheerfully, "but the season is young—who knows what might happen?" And Anna laughed again as he slung an arm around her shoulders and led her out the door.


End file.
